Paris Just Ain't Enough
by of monsters and me
Summary: Extraction is simple: do your job, and get the hell out of there. It's just the love life that really screws things. Drabbles and oneshots. 8: You'll leave, no doubt.
1. Limbo

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: He's gone forever, but nobody seems to realize he took her with him._

****

Note: this is a series of one-shots/drabbles. I might do other pairings beside this one, but we never know! If not, this will just be a Arthur/Ariadne.

* * *

_1. Limbo_

She wants so desperately for her dreams to become reality.

. . .

Her projections of him seem so real, but never quite enough. His heat not warm enough. His lips not shaped right. A smile to the man who never smiles. She remembers _everything _about him: the smell of his breath; the ghost of a grin on his lips; that mysteriously playful glint in his eyes. Her projection just isn't . . . _Arthur _enough.

She can almost delude herself into thinking it's him. Sometimes. _(But not always.) _

. . .

"I'm not him, am I? Just not good enough?" he whispers to her in the night – oh, she wants so badly to be dreaming right now.

She has to sigh. "No. I'm sorry." She closes her eyes, willing to succumb to the fantasy of a dream. "It's not your fault."

She does not expect him to answer, "But it was. My fault, I mean." So why, when he does, is she not _surprised_? Some part of her _just knew_, like it did before with Mal.

"I know." Her knowing smile irks him enough scream back at her.

"Shut up and _listen_, Ariadne! It's my fault he's down there, you hear me? My fault, God dammit! I . . . I wasn't thinking clearly. I was drunk before I went into that God damn dream! Now . . ."

"Now he's in limbo with no architect, and I'm here with no point man," she whispers.

That's when she cries herself to sleep. To the dream. _(To him.)_

. . .

In her dream, her point man is there – silent and mysterious and knowing. He never speaks – usually – but just kisses. It's the closest she can come to the _real thing, _but it's enough. _(But not enough to ever fully satisfy.) _That suits her just fine, as long as he is there.

But not tonight. Tonight, after her conversation with Cobb, she wants the real thing. She wants the _real _Arthur to come back, or at least be so kind as to let her be with him in limbo. She wants to design for him until they grow old in limbo, and again in their youthful state. _(She wants to be _his _architect. Oh, so, so badly.)_

She wants her Arthur back. Wants him to escape limbo to come back to her.

. . .

She learns to hold that small piece of Arthur close to her – his ability to notice everything. She honors his memory – his life, _his entire being_ – by doing just that: noticing.

_(A man with black hair that doesn't come close to Arthur's. [No one could ever copy that _perfect _shade.] A couple holding hands, wedding rings on their fingers – she doesn't get to marry Arthur. [Not anymore. Oh, Arthur, why did you _leave_?] An insane asylum with patients that seem saner than she does. [But their disease is just in the mind. Her illness haunts her _everywhere_.])_

She passes college, making the best of her year. _(After her "trip" she became wiser, that no one could deny.) _She's not all that happy – the only thing she's doing is going through the motions. None of it means anything anymore – not even the gossips floating senselessly around her.

But nobody at school knew she'd fallen in love along the way.

. . .

She should let go of her projection, before she becomes too _attached_. Cobb warns her, but she won't be stupid and let Arthur turn into "Mal" all over again.

It's not healthy, this addiction to the dreaming. But it's the only place Arthur still lives. It's the only place where she can hold him, and he'll hold back. Where she'll kiss him, and he'll kiss back.

It's the only place he's somewhat sane. _(She doesn't admit this to herself, but it's also the place where his ghost lingers the most – taunting her, calling her. [Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!])_

And she _cannot_ give that up. People can take Arthur away, but they cannot take what little piece of him she holds in her memories – in her dreams. People may Extract things, may pull away her secrets, revealing the naked truth – but this, this perfect man, is the one thing they _will not _have. She will not let them.

She doesn't let go of her projection, of her shadow of something beautiful.

. . .

_You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling._

And she is not. _(Oh, no, she is fear-less.) _What else is there to fear anymore? She has been stripped of everything – her love, her friends . . . _her abilities_.

She has turned into Cobb all over again. _(She was supposed to follow in her mentor's footsteps, but not like _this_.)_

She cannot write. Cannot draw. Cannot create the buildings that tower over her into oblivion. _(She wishes she still could; Arthur loved watching her draw, says she's the best he's ever seen. But being the best has its downsides, just like everything else.)_

Arthur follows her there, if she tries. _(She has learned to stop trying. [The real Arthur would say to never give up, but she just doesn't have the strength anymore.]) _He is silent and deadly, disappearing into the shadows as though they were his own flesh.

She feels relief when she sees him, and then longing – and finally betrayal, when he pulls the trigger or something just as radical. The betrayal when she wakes turns itself into grief.

She's not the architect anymore. _(She just can't do it, because _he's _not the point man anymore.)_

. . .

She wants so desperately for her dreams to become reality _[the good ones, anyways]_. _(But does she? Does she _really_? {To this, she has no answer at all.})_

* * *

**I'm a little late with seeing this movie, aren't I? Well, I'm thinking it's my new favorite. And this is my new favorite pairing . . .**


	2. Ariadne and Theseus

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: She won't be guiding Theseus by a thread. Ariadne/Cobb_

**Note: **Okay, I just want to know if I'm good with this pairing. Not exactly sure . . . **HAPPY NEW YEARS**, by the way.

* * *

_2. Ariadne and Theseus_

There is a myth of Theseus and the Minotaur. A half-blood, guided by the mortal Ariadne, travels through the Labyrinth of Daedalus and kills the ferocious Minotaur. Ariadne became the wife of Dionysus, made immortal by the gods.

It's amazing how alike they are, her and her namesake. Greek Ariadne guides through mazes, while she both creates and directs. And down in her subconscious with Cobb, she feels like a goddess.

She's supposed to bring Cobb back up, but she's not going to be the girl guiding Theseus. _(She wants him all to herself, 'cause she is just that selfish.)_


	3. Contrast

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: The way he talks about her, it's like she isn't heartless._

_Pairing: Eames/OC, mentioned Eames/Ariadne_

**Note**: My first attempt at this pairing. Eep. How am I doing?

_Review Reply _to _swampophelia_: Pardon? I am completely confused. I was pretty sure that Chapter Two was, in fact, a Ariadne/Dom. Please elaborate.

* * *

_3. Contrast_

"And she was the most wonderful architect . . ." This girl – this Ariadne – was a beauty. A dazzler. Charming, witty, and ever-so brilliant – for a college student. _(You seem plain and gray in comparison.)_

She could create buildings that we – you – could never even dream of. _{Dreaming – the other girl's specialty.} _Mazes, paradoxes, and wonderlands – she'd built them all. _(You seem unimaginative and hostile.)_

She had left him, and got lost in – what was it? – limbo. _(You seem faithful in difference.)_

But the way Eames talks about her, it's like she isn't heartless. _{She could never compete with _that_.}_


	4. Faithful Follower

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: He wants to follow her, but he cannot. Cobb/Mal_

**Note**: review, yes?

* * *

_4. Faithful Follower _

Her hair. The line of her jaw. Her full, pink lips. The curves on her delicate body. Her waist against his own.

_(He must memorize this. Memorize before she slips away again.)_

And she's whispering – her voice too soft, too delicate – "You know where to find me." _(And he does. He knows. Oh, he knows.)_

"Yes," he breathes, "I know." But he cannot go. Cannot follow her where there is no return. _(Doesn't she know this? Can't she see?) _

And that is the worst thing – he cannot follow her into her arms; into her world; cannot pursue her to death.


	5. Numbers and Words

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: Words described their relationship. (Let's make this . . . Yusuf/OC, 'cause a chemist has no right to be so brilliant.) _

**Note: **Idea taken from _Another Artist_, 'cause . . . wow; wonderful writer.

Thanks _Rebecca556 _for being the only reviewer . . . was the last chapter _that _bad?

* * *

_5. Numbers and Words_

Seven words said when we met, you and I.

_What is your name, pretty lady?_

Six words started it all for you and I.

_Will you be my girlfriend?_

Five words intertwined our fates, you and I.

_I can't be without you._

Four words started bringing it down, you and I.

_I frickin' hate you!_

Three words brought us together, you and I.

_I love you._

Two words gave us hope, you and I.

_Together forever._

One word tore us apart, you and I.

_Goodbye._

And now we are both separated from each other, you and I. _(Together no more.) _


	6. Possession

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: She is Mal. Mal is her. There is no escape._

Pairings: Ariadne/Arthur, Cobb/Mal (if you squint), (unintentional) Ariadne/Cobb

**Note: **Oh, goodie! We're back to Ariadne and Arthur again!

* * *

_6. Possession_

"You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but it doesn't matter. Why doesn't it _matter_, Dom?"

He shakes his head. "No, Ariadne, don't do this! Don't do this! Just . . . hold on a little longer for me, please."

"Because, you'll be together!" And then she falls.

. . .

Drop the bishop. Pick it up. Drop it again. Repeat. Like a game. Repetitive. Drop, pick, drop.

It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream. Drop, pick, drop.

"Don't worry, it was just a dream," Arthur's cool voice floated over her – reassuring, calm under pressure.

Just a dream. Just a dream. _Drop, pick, drop._

"What the bloody hell happened in there?" That was Eames – angry, concerned.

Arthur again: "You're okay, Ariadne. It was just an experiment, you remember – just a dream."

And then another voice . . . Cobb _(?)_: "It was her. She was her. Ariadne was _Mal_." His voice no longer pleading, but crazed and agitated. _(The voice of a madman; the voice of a lover in grief.)_

And then silence.

_Drop, pick, drop._

. . .

"We've all dreamed of her, you know." Arthur tries to reassure her. _(It doesn't work, but it's nice that he tried, no? It's the thought that counts.)_

"But you've never been her," she says, her voice shaky.

"No." This wasn't exactly reassuring, either. "You're strong, Ariadne – you'll get through this."

Her voice cracks when she says, "Maybe it's just a phase."

"Maybe." And he holds out his arms, so she steps into them. _(They are warm, comforting – they say everything that Arthur himself cannot.)_

And she cries.

. . .

When she wakes up, she finds herself in Arthur's arms.


	7. Crazier

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: Because we were young and I was crazy. [Cobb/Mal]_

**Note: **Yeah. Not a drabble, but a oneshot. Happy? (Translations taken curtsey of Google translate – which, I am not one-hundred percent sure is very accurate.)

* * *

_7. Crazier_

Because we were young and I was reckless, we fell in love.

I was twenty-two when I first met you. Father introduced you to me after the dream-sharing began, but I didn't trust you. Not until you gave me the rose, at least. "As a gentlemen," you had said then, "I present to Lady Malerie a rose: a symbol of our friendship; which, like dreaming, has its thorns." But it became something so much more than a symbol of our friendship, didn't it?

I was twenty-four when I first noticed the signs: the way I held myself around you, talked about you, and even dreamt of you – back when I still had the ability to, anyways. I realized that your eyes had golden flecks when you smiled at me; that you never let your projections so much as look at me the wrong way.

.

.

.

Because we were young and I was naïve, I let you sweep me away.

It first started when you decided we should dream together – I always thought that was a bad idea, you know. So we could get as much time together as possible, you said – and I believed you. Oh, God, how I believed you, _monsieur._

But then it was an experiment. Going deeper; pushing boundaries; ignoring limits. Dreaming first, love second. You were selfish and I was scared, so I let myself drown in your comfort – at least, I hoped it was comfort.

Because sometimes submission is better than nothing.

.

.

.

Because we were young and I was damned anyways by then, I let you take me into forever.

I think I was thirty-four when it happened. I'm not sure. We were married when I was thirty, I remember, and this time was after that. Anyways, there was something different in the air that day. Ominous, almost.

I wanted to say something, but you were so _reasonable _– _"if we can surpass two floors, why not three? why not go deeper?" _but you knew why, and I knew why.

We didn't listen, though. Not that day.

.

.

.

Because we were young and I was crazy, I let your mistake scar me.

It doesn't matter anymore, does it? Down there, alone . . . something changed, Dom. You changed; I changed; to both of us – or perhaps just me – the children changed. The whole world around us was changing – I don't know if it was just me who was blind, but I was oblivious.

I've told you once before that I don't like change. I think change is bad; _méchants_; evil. You're nickname for me – Mal – it means _evil_, but of course you didn't know that. But I knew – and isn't that all that matters?

Anyways, it never mattered what I thought of _changement_, did it? Because it would still happen – would always happen, and I would be powerless to _do _anything to defy the wicked Fates. Because I was a powerless, defenseless _mortel _who could not even survive dream-sharing with her husband.

And for that, I am ashamed.

.

.

.

Because we were young and I was crazy, my mind was _sans armes_ – and I was weak.


	8. Attached

_Paris Just Ain't Enough_

_Summary: You'll leave, no doubt. [Eames/OC]_

**Note: **Because British men are just that hot.

* * *

_8. Attached _

swear up

andand

**d**

**o**

**w**

**n**

you _lovelovelove _me.

words are but

**e m p t y**

promises.

you, of all people,

s/h/o/u/l/d know

**((**shouldn't you?**))**

. . .

okay, so _maybe _you're

a

**lair&&**

a

**cheat&&**

a

**fraud**;

but what does it matter

...right?

. . .

**[**you're such an . . . ugh!**]**

**(**i love you too, hun**)**

so maybe i love you

**m o r e**

than you love me.

that's _normal_, isn't it?

. . .

and when you finally decide to

l**.**e**.**a**.**v**.**e**...**

me, baby

i'll run**&&**

laugh**&&**

play

**{&& **cry a whole lot**}**


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